


Slightly Mad

by BrokePerception



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 03:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokePerception/pseuds/BrokePerception
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellatrix hasn't always been bordering on insanity, a word so easily associated with the eldest Black daughter. No, she's become... slightly mad. - slight Bellatrix/Voldemort & Bellatrix/Rodolphus</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slightly Mad

BETA READ by _AryaEragonPrincessShadeslayer_ & _CaramelAriana_ , through **Project Team Beta**.

* * *

Cygnus Black the Third was known as a very heartless sort of man – _heartless_ could be associated with the majority of the Blacks, but still it often showed itself to be seemingly more rooted within him than any other member of the old Pureblood family… even more so than it had with his own father, and that surely was something. Pollux Black's DNA had definitely been passed on and had overruled his wife's at most anything if it concerned little Cygnus.

He liked copious expanses of good food and wine, and he liked to invite companions into his house to exhibit the great abundance of the both he could so easily afford. He was a very proud man indeed, with strict rules which everyone around him needed to abide by. His word was law, and that counted for his wife and his daughters just as well as anyone else. No exceptions were made. That's how one quite easily could describe Cygnus Black the Third; there wasn't much more about him really.

His wife, Druella Rosier, was the kind of woman who never said much. The last you would ever call her was easy-going, though. She rarely spoke at all, not because she was a person without opinion who just nodded at everything – no, because she just didn't need words to tell others of her disapproval.

Either way, she only cared about matters that involved herself. Otherwise, she could be considered as a fairly careless witch, even if it concerned her husband and three daughters. Druella's spouse was a very intimidating figure and could hold his own without her well enough. Her daughters… well, Druella Rosier had never really been the motherly type. She had only procreated because that was a part of the tradition – women did not choose if they wanted children or not; they just had as many as possible to be quite guileless.

Three daughters later with a minor mishap midst the birth of the younger left her unable to conceive again, leaving them with no sons. She couldn't say that she minded, though. She had never enjoyed being with child – not with any of her daughters.

One could say that birthing three daughters and not a single son, then becoming infertile combined with baby blues had left her close to depressed and feeling inferior. Now that was very far from the truth. She just didn't… _care_ , you see. Others then told of a sad love story where she had been forced to marry a much older man she never loved, opposed to the wizard her heart beat for faster. Now, that was already far closer to the truth; she had never loved Cygnus, and she would happily bet every ring on her fat little fingers that he had never loved her either. Their marriage had been arranged just like every other in their Pureblood circles.

 _However_ , there had never been someone else. No one or nothing had ever made her cold heart beat faster with emotion, unless you of course counted anger.

Succinctly, if all went to her wishes and as long as Druella was happy, she could as well have been invisible. She was barely ever home anyway, rather going into Wizarding London with her fellow companions to have a game of Gobstones or classic cards over a glass of whiskey… or two, or three – or if you want to know the truth, most likely a whole bottle… or a few of those.

That day in mid-July 1968 there was nothing unusual going on. Druella was absent, whereas Cygnus remained home with his three daughters. His eldest would turn seventeen right at the beginning of the next month – the Wizarding age of legal adulthood. Andromeda was fifteen, whereas Narcissa would turn thirteen in October. Oh, yes… his daughters were each two years apart in age, as according to tradition. Cygnus did everything by the book, even if it meant taking care of his own needs for two years to ensure they would not procreate before the ideal time had come…

Now, something else that was custom in their higher circles was that on the day of the witch's seventeenth birthday, her fiancé would be announced. Of course, from the age of adulthood, the father would need to let go of his daughter as she left his family and entrust her care to her husband. One needed to be married prior to age eighteen, thus within the year.

The female would not be able to choose – her father would choose the most ideal candidate. In fact, she had close to nothing to say on the matter, even if it concerned her own wedding. Unless the pairing irrevocably lead to suspicions for possible murder from either side, the father would be able to choose among basically all available Pureblood wizards.

Bellatrix Black, the eldest daughter in question, was of course aware of all that. Already had she seen it happen to her cousins first hand. She, however, knew as well that worrying about it would be in vain. Whether she actively disagreed with her destiny or not, it would be of no use either way. One could say that Bellatrix had inherited that particular "I-don't-care-attitude" of mummy-dear. That wasn't entirely true, though.

If Father said that she would marry the first unattractive and stupid guy he could make mention of, she would have to do so without hesitation. She just had no other _choice_ , you see. Women in those days had absolutely no choice in anything. They abided by their father and later their husband. Only when her husband died would she finally be free. Oh, in that time it was a no-go to remarry, unless of course under certain circumstances – for instance when relatively young children where in the game or when the woman herself was still young and attractive… unheard of to be left alone.

Divorce was… preposterous. It didn't change the fact that many a couple 'lived divorced', though. Since it legally wasn't done, a lot of couples who had passed the point of insinuating common amiability and had taken what they could from one other, lived next to each other more than with each other in the same marital house. Pureblood women were no exception, except maybe they had more wealth.

Considering Bella knew exactly what was supposed to happen, and that she would have no choice in the matter after all, she had not pined for information from anyone – least of all her own father. She would get the details she didn't know yet all in due time.

Due time appeared to be that day in July. She had already had suspicions when Father called her into his study. He only ever discussed those matters of importance in it – matters he didn't particularly like anyone else to hear – since there was a permanent Silencing Charm on the small, compact room.

Bella could be assured that her little sisters should not know about what was being said within. Cygnus did not say anything in regard to sharing what she would know upon leaving, but her astounding intellect had lead Bellatrix to know to only divulge the most cryptic of answers if she was being asked after the conversation – which she most likely would, given especially Narcissa was a very curious child. She was bound to have noticed Bellatrix disappear and to ask her about it all later. Good Merlin, Bella had always been good at wording something carefully and talking in riddles.

"Rodolphus Lestrange," Cygnus merely said. "Rodolphus Lestrange shall become your husband within the year. You'll get engaged officially on the day of your seventeenth birthday, at the gathering held here to celebrate your becoming an adult. He'll make a fine husband for you. He's entirely Pureblood and wealthy enough to support both of you and the family that you will have."

"Yes, Father," Bellatrix said. In fact, she could have gotten worse. She knew Rodolphus from Hogwarts – he had been a year above her, only gotten his degree last June. While far from handsome, there were worse candidates both in looks and age. Bellatrix had talked to him a handful of times – which was not so very odd if you had shared the same Slytherin Common Room and table in the Great Hall for half a decade. Whereas he had never struck the eldest Black daughter as unusually intelligent, he could not be called dumb either… though she suspected mostly he was sly instead of intelligent. There was a distinct difference between the two.

"Lord Voldemort agrees that you and Rodolphus would be a fine young pair. He'll be satisfied to know that I did choose him in the end."

Oh… yes. You see, in fact Cygnus did obey that one person… though he often fooled himself to believe they were at least equals. You know as much as anyone who's learned the first thing about Tom Marvolo Riddle, that something like comradery or the word 'equal' never belonged in his vocabulary. At most, one could say that they shared the same ideas. Both of them thought only Purebloods were deserving of magic and that the world would be better ridden from betraying Half-Bloods and certainly Mudbloods. They set Pureblood status very high in their opinions.

Lord Voldemort and Cygnus Black the Third had met through his wife's large family. The Dark Lord, and Cygnus and Druella had been invited to dinner one day at Heddwyn Rosier's – Druella's older brother.

Cygnus' last words were met with silence. A smile of menace washed over him as he still vividly recalled the first meeting between the Dark Lord and his eldest. She had come breezing down the stairs shouting for her personal House Elf. He must have known that she had reason to be upset and had not come immediately upon being called. In fact, his failing to do so had made Bellatrix' ire greater. If there was just one thing to be proud of in regard to his eldest, it was the fact that she could hold her own and never actually failed to see the inferior position of others – like for instance their House Elves. Eight relatively old House Elves worked for the whole family, of which one was assigned to every member and the three others taking care of cooking and cleaning mostly. Some even foolishly considered them to have feelings. The mere thought filled Cygnus' mouth with diminishing and unkind words. How could a creature like a House Elf have feelings? If so, you could say that Goblins and Griffins had those as well. Ridiculous.

Bellatrix Black had the easiness with her own nudity typically only possessed by the young, some said. True, she rarely had inhibitions at all – her mother's careless nature shone through there. Though, when she ran down the stairs with her dark green dress in hand, barely dressed in a black laced up corset and matching knickers, Bellatrix really had thought that her father and the Dark Lord were still in the study. Her mother and growing younger sisters had been at Diagon Alley that afternoon to acquire new robes for the latter – it had been highly necessary, and the last a Black really wanted to do was to live with the shame of even insinuating the least hint of being unable to procure the best of the best.

However, Cygnus and Lord Voldemort had long left the study to have a copious lunch prior to when the latter would need to leave, crafted by Cygnus' unhappy House Elves to the best of their abilities. Having meant to run over to the kitchen, where the House Elves usually were during the day (for they could not be seen as long as daylight prevailed… thus cleaning necessarily happened at night), and drag the creature responsible for the harshness of the fabric from wherever it had hidden, she, however, ran straight into her father and his guest. She had fallen in a quiet stupor at once, both men as well… the female and the males just gazing at one another a few more moments, until Bellatrix took off and rushed upstairs again, holding her dress close to her in order to shield as much she could from view (despite the harm already done), her youthful sixteen-year-old face blushing too red already to still advance toward the kitchen and actually go through with what she had initially intended…

She had never quite seen the man up close until that one time, though. She had been highly surprised by his looks to say the least then. He had not at all been unattractive.

It had made the eldest Black daughter curious, so two nights after the mishap, when the Dark Lord visited again, she eavesdropped on their conversation. Being magical enough as she was and knowing that such a small spell wouldn't be detected in their overly magical household – if anyone even wanted to go against a Black – Bellatrix had easily cast a Silencing Charm around herself and sat by the top of the stairs, from which she could listen along to what was being said. She could hear most if she strained her ears, unless they of course whispered. When certain conversations were held not within the confines of the study, the three daughters had long learned not to come downstairs when they knew there were guests. Privacy was always… paramount.

Safe to say here, Cygnus had never known about her listening in on that conversation. Cissy had nearly ruined it, though. She had the tendency to run after her elder sister within the house. Bellatrix suspected that maybe she was the little girl's… heroine of sorts; that the child idolized her. Andromeda, being a close to exact replica of Bella in appearance, seemed the entire opposite of them in personality, rather spending time alone in her room reading, never actively searching for their or anyone's company.

Bellatrix hadn't sat there for long that night, when Cissy already came hurrying toward her over the first landing, wondering just a bit too loud what she was doing sitting there. Bellatrix had had to reach over and shut her sister up with a hand over her mouth lest she gave away her – their – current position, prior to stretching the Silencing Charm over her as well. She had told her that she wanted to know more about this Dark Lord – it had not been an entire lie. However, it had been cryptic enough not to give anything of importance away yet answer enough to satisfy the curious child even if only momentarily.

_"She's quite… beautiful. Her looks accentuate her purity, with those ink curls and that particular dark eye color. She's unmistakably a Black, no doubt about it."_

Bellatrix had failed to register her father's response – though, she assumed he was all too proud in hearing that despite never having had even one son, at least his eldest had inherited all dominant Black characteristics. Her otherwise so hard to move heart had begun to beat faster at the sentence about her spilled from the guest she knew to be quite handsome. No one had ever called her beautiful or hailed her in any way for her looks or intelligence. That was of course if you excluded jealous Narcissa, who occasionally mentioned how very much she would have liked to have the same beautiful deep eyes or natural inky curls – in looks, she was the exact contradiction of her elder sister: straight blonde with blue eyes opposed to her as day to night. In personality, however…

Of course, Bella never realized – at first due to gullible youthfulness and then due to the blindness of love she felt for him, that Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort… did not give adulation as others do. "Beautiful" was a word he merely borrowed from others to label something that was close to his ideals… that he _liked_. However, _liking_ still was superficial to the wizard.

Either way, strayed from the main story long enough now… Bellatrix, however, rediscovered her tongue soon. The rudeness that more often spilled from her mouth than the obeying words weakly inherited from her careless mother in times when it deemed best, took upper hand again. "Why don't you let me marry him then?" she retorted. "He cannot be that old, and you've told me he does not have a wife or a family."

To Bella's utter surprise – for she would have anticipated his anger to flare beyond belief – Cygnus began laughing… hysterically so. A wave of his hand indicated he wanted her to leave, that their conversation was over. Nostrils flaring with barely suppressed anger at her father's disrespectful reaction – though respect for posterity was something not taught within the ancient and so noble House of Black – she merely held her posture by his ridiculously bare cherry wooden desk for a few more seconds, then turned on her heel upon finding that nothing reasonable would come forth from him anytime soon and flew from the Silenced study, slamming the door as she did. Cygnus was still too amused even to chasten her for the display of disrespect toward her ancestors as he would have otherwise.

July ticked soon to its end without the eldest Black daughter catching even as much of a glimpse of the man she had suggested to be her husband. The Friday night following Bella's conversation with her father, she could, however, hear his very distinct voice from far downstairs as she intended to cross back from the bathroom to her bedroom. It seemed that for once, Druella had remained home to have dinner with her husband and their guest – Bella's decision was made within seconds.

The days since the conversation with its slightly upsetting, sudden end had been filled with continuous pondering over how and why. Even Narcissa had noticed that she had been preoccupied with something since. He had called her beautiful, hadn't he? Then why had her own father, who seemed to eulogize the wizard so much, considered it so amusing? She easily opted to ask _him_ herself.

Descending the stairs then walking purposefully to the living room, Bellatrix' intent was quite clear. It would be less than two weeks until her seventeenth birthday and her officially announced engagement to Rodolphus Lestrange.

Cygnus' nostrils flared in a way so familiar to Bellatrix – after all Bella's own ability to anger had been passed on from her father – as his daughter appeared in the doorway, momentarily halting just there. The position of his chair gave him excellent view upon anyone who would dare disturb them. Despite Bellatrix being the most rebellious, he would have assumed his eldest to know better than the two others what could follow if privacy wasn't respected. "Bellatrix Black, where by Merlin has your decency gone, to disturb us like this?" At his poisonous and irate comment, her mother looked upward as well from the glass of whiskey she had been nursing, turning her gaze aside to the daughter she had long considered as a lost cause for decency. Standing there in a tightly corseted dress that barely left anything to the imagination – clearly not how she had bought it but improved by the little witch herself – and without shame of having disturbed a conversation, Bellatrix Black was the epitome of everything that a Black radically despised… yet at the same time the Black in her had never seemed so obvious. Her eyes had never seemed so bottomless and heartless… so mysterious.

Without replying, the eldest daughter advanced further into the living room, and as she neared, she could see her father's left sleeve raised to his elbow… something what looked to be like a tattoo that she had never seen prior to then etched upon the skin on his forearm. She could see how it had a particular shape, but not exactly which – Cygnus immediately lowered his sleeve as she came close enough to possibly see it in detail. "I am sorry for disturbing you," Bella said, though the words left her so emotionlessly that one could easily doubt their sincerity. "I just wanted to speak with the Dark Lord if I might," she added, finally turning to face the wizard that had so caught her interest. Bellatrix Irma had always so enjoyed unraveling riddles…

Her eyebrow quirked as she noticed a hue of red in his eyes that she had not seen prior to then – it was a very unnatural color for _human_ eyes. Had it been there already upon their last encounter and had she merely failed to notice it… or had they only recently become so? Nonetheless, Bellatrix gathered herself within seconds, letting her right eyebrow relax again while she waited patiently for someone – anyone – to say… something – anything. Her dark eyes never actually left Voldemort's, though. The red hue in them seemed to flicker brighter for but a moment. She didn't know the cause for it was anger… He didn't condone rudeness well either.

Voldemort actually was the one to reply despite neither the child nor the house in which they were being his. "I'll be glad to _lisssten_ ," the Dark Lord calmly stated. "I'm _sssure_ that we could have a very _interesssting conversssation_ together." The particular hissing sound accompanying his words struck her. Later, she would learn that it did not bode very well. It characterized his anger.

She saw how his gaze slowly redirected toward her father, following it. Under both their stares – especially under the intensity of the reddish gaze, Cygnus Black the Third pushed back the chair in which he sat, nodding at his wife to do the same. He seemingly had not anticipated his _equal_ to accept Bellatrix' offer. Druella followed wisely as her husband left without as much as a sound.

Both Voldemort's and Bellatrix' gazes lingered upon her close ancestors until they disappeared from view. Bellatrix was in absolute awe of the man that bossed about everyone obeying this easily. He then waved his wand into an arc, assumingly creating a temporary Silencing Charm. "Have a _ssseat_ then, if we're going to talk," he said, indicating the seat that her mother had occupied only a minute prior. Keeping her eyes trained upon him, Bella sat. "Now," he said. "Talk away. I'm _lissstening._ "

Politeness forced her to nod at him in response as suddenly she felt more inferior than ever… yet at the same time mildly contented. Her wish to talk with him had been fulfilled. He was indeed handsome as she had surmised from their first encounter. "As you certainly know, I'm turning seventeen in less than two weeks. I'm about to be officially engaged that day to Rodolphus Lestrange. Whereas I'm certainly not unhappy with it," she said, knowing that it would be best if she failed to tell him the exact words that ran through her. "I cannot help but wonder if maybe there's not better."

" ** _Better_**?" he repeated, lips curling to reveal his nice, even teeth.

"Indeed," she said, not quite knowing how to get it across… knowing she had to tread carefully. Her own father had not left like he did such if there had not been a threatening reason. "I mean, for instance… someone older might be more suitable." She hoped that was not too very obvious, but the Dark Lord did have the tendency to see through such better than anyone. Praise for his own superiority, he never failed to detect despite one's best tries to hide it.

"You truly believe that you're worthy of me – a _sssssseventeen_ -year-old little _ssssschool_ girl with only imagination about great magic?" he hissed, voice otherwise… creepily calm. "No one _isss_ worthy of me. I've _sssstretched_ magic beyond the boundaries of the possible. Those _ssilly_ incantations you learn at _sschool_ and have _ssuch_ difficulty with, the most that wizards ever learn? I do those while _ssssleeping_. I'm the greatest sorcerer of all time, _Bellatrixxxx_ Black." He nearly spat her last name, her first falling mockingly from his lips. Then, suddenly, the sizzling that had so accompanied his words to make him close to unintelligible fell away as sardonic mockery took over. It slightly alarmed her. "There's no one even remotely equal to me. Love is a weakness, Bellatrix Black. It makes you undiscerning for all. I will never love, and I suggest that you do the same. You'll never be worthy of me," he repeated as he stood. "Tell your father that dinner was nice and that I'll be in touch soon," he added, then turned fast on his heel… leaving the room in a flurry of robes with a high air between pride and anger. She, of course, had gotten Hell enough for it later from her father – and for disturbing them to begin with and breaking one of the most essential rules in the household: privacy… and secrecy.

So, Rodolphus and she became engaged on the day of her seventeenth birthday just as arranged. However, His words kept nagging in her head. _Worthy_. _Silly little school girl_. Whereas the eldest Black daughter was used to never being fully able to satisfy, He… was different. He elicited her competitive nature more so than anyone. He made her want to prove herself worthy, invalidate his _weak_ argumentation. She had always been very good at school, but just for him… just to prove that she wasn't as worthless as he thought (and tried to make her believe) she was, Bellatrix Black (soon Lestrange) would happily push herself that bit further still. Cygnus very much liked to boast about his daughters – too much to doubt that he would hear it. She would make it reach his worthy ears that Bellatrix Black certainly was the best witch of her age… if it were the last thing she would ever do.

Cygnus didn't disappoint her. He had boasted just loud enough, so that during the Easter holidays, two months prior to when Bellatrix' education at Hogwarts would be finished and a week prior to her wedding, her personal House Elf suddenly appeared into her room on a lazy Tuesday afternoon… requesting for her to go down to the living room for the Dark Lord wanted to have a 'conversation' with her.

It had taken him long enough, she thought. Most of her hope to have interested him had vanished by January. However, as Twinky came to announce that he wanted to speak to her, Bellatrix' heart began to beat faster nearly immediately, the possibility of a mission achieved making it thump more intensely than it had… in months. Sliding off the chair behind her desk, at which she had been reading in order to make her Anglo-Saxon essay for History of Magic, she had a very difficult time acting like it barely mattered to her, hiding the excitement she felt of seemingly having succeeded in the intended.

Arriving downstairs, Bella found the Dark Lord had been waiting alone in their living room, her mother or father nowhere to be seen. He occupied the same seat he had last time she had seen the wizard. She naturally moved to the chair she herself had occupied then as well and sat, eying the man quietly. He looked much paler than he had, and the red in his eyes was more obvious than then as well. Whereas he still was not unattractive to look at, a small twinge could be felt across her stomach area as suddenly she realized he was not as handsome as he had once been.

" _Sssso_. We meet again then, Bellatrix Black," Voldemort's voice sounded, the sizzling which she already had heard last time slightly more… _intense_ now, coating every word now. "I've heard that you have gotten to excel in every _ssssubject_ – more _sssso_ than ever. You're _conssssidered_ the _bessssssst_ witch of your year."

"That's right," Bella said with a certain… air of proud achievement.

He merely nodded, waving his wand at his left sleeve so it slid somewhat higher on its own to reveal a kind of familiar tattoo – one that resembled the one which she had seen etched upon her father's arm… months ago – if it wasn't the same. She could clearly see it was a skull now, with a snake coiling around it. He followed her gaze, then smiled with great satisfaction upon seeing her having fallen into silence. "Dark Mark," he merely said. "It… creates a certain bond between me and those who share the same ideas and purpose, namely to rid the world of undeserved magic… Mudbloods in particular. Your father has the same mark on his arm? He and I do share similar visions about the matter." Bellatrix' eyes redirected at once and clashed with his. "Oh no… not just _anyone_ will have the opportunity to create a bond with Lord Voldemort," he hissed. "Only those who deserve the magic running through their veins and have long learned how to handle it. You could be a nice addition to my circles."

Bellatrix' bottomless eyes grew large at the statement, and she felt momentarily giddy. "Oh?" she breathed, forcing herself to sound indifferent while actually her heart was pounding gleefully. This was even better.

That night, Voldemort burned the Dark Mark into her milky skin. A Glamor hid the still burning red skin from view on her wedding. The Dark Lord wasn't even there, though she knew that he had been invited by her father – despite Cygnus having arranged it all without his daughter's word of approval or disapproval. The long white dress certainly hadn't been of her liking – she never would have worn something so ridiculously covered and lacy. However, it had been inherited from her Gran Irma – the one after which she had been named…

Rodolphus Lestrange greedily took her untouched virginity on the night of their wedding, but after that they never actually were intimate again. She wouldn't have it, and the underlying threat of being hexed by his wife certainly weighed against Rod's own needs – he knew of her power… one of the main reasons why they never procreated. Bellatrix had always been a rebel, after all. If any one of the female Blacks would _choose_ not to have children, it certainly must have been her.

The next time that Voldemort and Bella met was after her wedding, even after she had left the confines of Hogwarts behind, at the first gathering of the Dark Lord and who would later become his followers. He had always been the leader of the gang, always had upper hand no matter how seemingly hidden that might have been right at the beginning. He called after her as the others filtered from the room and asked how she was faring as Mrs. Lestrange. The question elicited great response. "I'm fine, though I'll keep wondering what more I need to do now to actually prove myself to you. I don't know what you want. I can do spell work far above what a regular pupil can after just having left Hogwarts, and I'm Pureblood… more so than most of the others who sit here at your table."

Lord Voldemort did not tolerate rude language. He did not like to repeat himself. Slapping across her cheek hard, his voice suddenly sounded soft beside her ear. "You will _never_ be worthy of _me_. Each step forward you make in performing magic, I take two. You grow, but you forget that I do as well. The distance between us remains if it doesn't become larger. I'll always be far beyond your reach, little Bella."

"Let me prove myself," she said once again.

Flaring nostrils, Voldemort considered… her suggestion. Obviously, she would actually do most anything to prove herself to him. She would not give in until he made her see just what a coward she was and how much she in fact still had to learn. At that point, he of course never would have thought that without as much as a second thought, Bella would pass on to killing if he asked. From that particular point in time, little innocent and sane Bella began to slip away for good.

You see, nothing ever was enough to please him and get him where she wanted. She would just act on his every whim each time with less reverence in hopes that it would once be enough… but it never was. She remained worthless to him.

So he kept Bellatrix sated by making her feel special by hiding matters of great importance in the vault she shared with her husband or her personal one – truth told, he knew that she would be stupid enough not to ask questions, just accept. Sometimes he kept Bellatrix sated by teaching her one of his spells if she had been very obedient. Rarely he would sleep with her when little Bella had been exceptionally good. It was never the thought of her that thrilled him, though… let her believe it. It always was the thought of how very mean she could be and of how much power he had over her and her actions. If her Lord asked her to lynch herself, she most likely would.

However, was what did happen much farther from that? In the long run she became slightly mad without even realizing it… without feeling that deep loss of herself, her sanity – all despite his serious warning of how love only was a mere obstruction, hoping to please a person who never could be made happy either way.


End file.
